


Closure

by maximum_overboner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Oneshot, and is repressing the living daylights out of some feelings, genji has balls of steel, solemn japes, there are japes but they aren't quite as merry, zenyatta has a very dry sense of humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 04:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maximum_overboner/pseuds/maximum_overboner
Summary: Genji will be leaving the temple in a suicidal quest to confront his brother. But he is not the only one intent on leaving.





	Closure

“Thank you for coming here on such short notice.”

“It is fine. It gives me an opportunity to step away from the monastery without accusation.”

Genji winced, kneeling on a pillow in his barren home, a table separating them. The moonlight cast on the snow outside, and so the light that crept in from the windows was pallid and sickly; thin, creeping fingers of tree-branches melting into something warm and pleasing. Zenyatta sat opposite him, kneeling in turn.

“I am sorry to be monopolising your time,” Genji said, “I do not mean to drag you away from your duties.”

“It is not that. My brothers have a great fondness for you, Genji. It is not you they have grown to begrudge.”

“Another disagreement?”

“Yes.”

“Was it resolved?”

_“No.”_

Genji sighed, feeling a portion of guilt despite his master’s reassurance. He looked to his tea, only able to know that it was scaldingly hot. It could have been as weak as water or stronger than the average man could stomach and he wouldn’t know. but he drank it anyway. Zenyatta gently breached his thoughts.

“Is there something you wish to discuss, or did you yearn for company.”

Genji thought, looking at the rippling tea. Far, far too dark. It was strong, then. Pity.

“Both.”

“I see. Would you prefer the company or the discussion first?”

“Company, please.”

“Then company you shall have. What is it you are drinking?”

Genji placed it down.

“Tea. But I cannot taste it, anyway.”

“Then why drink it?”

“I thought I could remind myself of home. This did not lift my spirits as I had hoped it would.”

Genji dipped his pinky in to confirm that it was, indeed, scalding, and would have split his flesh into blisters if it were natural.

Zenyatta waited patiently for him to continue. Silence drew out troubles like pus out of a wound.

“I think it’s time I left,” Genji said, coming out with it. He did not expect rage in response, and so what he feared more was calm, rational examining.

“I see. Is there a reason in particular?”

Genji was quiet again.

“If you are worried we look poorly upon your cyberization, you do not have to fear. There is no judgement here, open or otherwise. The temple has welcomed many guests, human and omnic alike.”

“What would you consider me?”

Zenyatta thought on this, then chose to ignore it.

“What I consider you is not important. What you must focus on is that you are a welcome guest. And your willingness to change your ways places you in great esteem with us. We have briefly entertained guests who were… Not as willing to open their minds.”

Genji felt a story brewing, and was more than happy to indulge his companion.

“Really?”

Zenyatta couldn’t smile, yet Genji could hear it in his voice.

“A man, a human, marched up our stairs and demanded that one of my brothers return to his duties on the farms and ‘give up this nonsense’.”

“For no pay and cruel hours?”

“Of course.”

Genji scoffed. “What did you do?”

“Not wanting to distress my brother I went in his stead to confront him.”

“Alone?”

“Alone. If he could not treat us with hospitality then he would not be greeted as a guest. I descended the stairs to find him there, coiled and looking for a fight. I bid him hello,” Zenyatta said, “and asked him if would be willing to sit down to tea to discuss our ideals and come to a mutual understanding, bettering us all in the process and advancing human-omnic relations.”

“Did he persist in his anger?”

“He did.”

“And?”

“He assumed the Shambali,” he noted dryly, “adhered to a strict code of pacifism.”

Ah. That was that, then.

“Was he injured?”

“Nothing that could not heal. I did teach him some of our ways. If I were to be so bold, I would say I taught him well. He did not return. A man of such thin skin would carry the bruises I gave him for weeks. Though I must admit, my knowledge of human anatomy is poor. Does it take a considerable amount of time for a broken leg to heal?”

“Yes,” Genji said, “it does.”

“I see. Enough, perhaps, to remind him of his mistake?”

“Very much so.”

Genji saw the faintest glimmer of grim vindication in his master, then just as quickly it slipped back under the surface.

Choking back his tea, feeling only the texture and the heat, Genji braced his hands to the table and came right out with it.

“I am not leaving to wander the world again. I am leaving the village to confront Hanzo.”

Zenyatta braced his hand to his chin in solemn thought. Too solemn. Worryingly solemn. Genji felt as if he was going to be scolded, as he had been many times in his youth.

“I see.”

“You are taking this well.”

“Do I appear to be? The years here have done wonders for my composure.”

And though not an angry word was said, Genji felt his stomach tumble. But he steeled himself and continued.

“It is necessary.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Genji responded without hesitation. Zenyatta looked him over, but allowed him to continue.

“It must be done; it’s why I called you here, to tell you. And through my time wandering, meditating… I feel like a changed man. But I worry, master, about what I might do when I see him. That I might regress.”

Zenyatta placed his worries to one side, for the moment.

“A certain amount of fear is healthy. But I do not think you will falter.”

“That is really what you think?”

“I do. Not as your master, but as your friend. But I must caution you. You may seek closure for the rest of your life. I am not sure your brother could give it to you, and it is unhealthy to chase it to the end of the world and back. In proving to him that you are a changed man, you may inadvertently return to the stubbornness and pride and that lapse may get you killed. There comes a time where you must let go.”

“That time is not now.”

“Then when is it?”

“When there is no hope.”

“And when will that be? He has made an attempt on your life. Successfully. I am not asking you to hate him, on the contrary. What I am asking is for a healthy dose of caution.”

Genji, two years ago, would have blown up at this. He breathed in through his nose, held it, then exhaled through his mouth.

“I will consider your points,” Genji said, “and discard them. I am flying to Japan next week.”

“Considering my points and only then dismissing them? You truly have come a long way,” Zenyatta noted dryly. Genji did not laugh.

“He is suffering greatly. On the anniversary of my death he visits our home and lights incense for me. I know I have ranted about his pride and his honour, but I cannot bear to think of him like this. Our father is dead, he thinks he has killed his only brother, our clan is in shambles and he is an outcast. I have made peace with what I once was, but if I do not see him I worry he never will. It is not my closure, master, it is his.”

This gave Zenyatta pause, enough that the room was silent for a full minute.

“Do you think he will accept you?”

“Honestly… No. He had a hard enough time looking at me when I would eat his portion of eggs at the dinner table. Coming back from the dead will probably upset him.”

“I see. It’s commendable that you’re trying. Not many would.”

“Thank you.”

What a hypocrite Zenyatta would be to scold him for being so dangerous, when in truth the idea of leaving was a seductive one. He settled in the middle.

“I will make no further efforts to encourage you, or to dissuade you. This is a complex matter. All I request is that you keep a clear head. You cannot force him to understand.”

“I will try.”

“To force him, or to keep a clear head?”  
  
“Yes.”

Zenyatta looked at him dead on, unblinking, unwavering, and found Genji was able to do the same in turn. It seemed that little trick didn’t work anymore. Now that a resolution had been reached, however reluctant, Genji let his shoulders relax. They were so taut he almost heard the coils in his neck whine.

“I envy you. You seem so sure of yourself, of what you’re doing. You’ve found your calling.”

“I have.”

“What is it like?”

A difficult admission for a difficult admission. It was only fair.

“It is fulfilling, to a point. If I were to be truthful I am… Reconsidering.”

Genji blinked, not expecting that answer.

“You do not want to be a monk?”

“It’s not my purpose I’m questioning, it’s my means of achieving it. I cannot be anything but a monk, no matter who may disagree with me.”

“I would think you were made to fit those robes,” Genji bantered, “as if you had rolled out of the factory wearing them.”

He was not met with easy humour. It wasn’t hostility, but it ran parallel to it.

“I did not.”  

Genji did not look forward to this story, but nevertheless Zenyatta continued, keeping that fact in the forefront of his mind.

“I slaughtered chickens for market. In the time after the crisis. I would pluck them from their cages, break their necks and drain them. Then I would scald, pluck, eviscerate and hang them to be sold by the owner of the stall. And I would do it again, and again, without rest.”

Genji was taken aback, both by the steely edge to his voice, and the bluntness of his language. It seemed impossible. It didn’t fit. Genji dropped all pretense of humour.

“I cannot imagine you doing something like that, master.”

“It does not matter if you can imagine it because it transpired. I am not afforded the luxury of forgetfulness.”

“What did you think, being forced to do such things?”

“I did not. I did it without a second of reflection. The assumption is that absence of thought is like a cold, dark expanse in the soul. Of a marsh pulling creatures under until they succumb and suffocate. It is something groping and far, far worse. When I awoke, I felt euphoric. And then, knowing what I once was, I felt terror. I looked to the chickens I had slaughtered, one wriggling in my hand, and felt guilt. And then I began to feel many things, far too many things. I washed my hands of blood, feathers and feces, removed my apron and handed it to the owner. I said to her, ‘I do not wish to do this anymore. It would be best if you looked for a replacement’. This took her by surprise as I lacked the necessary components to speak. The cords they would have clung to hung loose from my neck.”

Genji sat opposite, cross-legged and astonished. His face was uncovered, free to ebb and flow as his emotions did. Zenyatta wondered what that must be like. To have your face show what you feel. To be so perilously naked.

“Omnics can… Adapt. Their code can self-correct, far faster than a human brain could learn,” Genji said, unsure of the exact mechanics despite his cybernetic body, “do you think that was what happened? That you learned?”

“I believe it was The Iris, blooming in me.”

“I see,” Genji agreed, hearing him out for the sake of politeness.

Despite their shared outlook they disagreed on spiritual matters. They would meditate together, but while Zenyatta would feel himself slide into the embrace of something great and comforting, Genji used it as a means to calm his mind and focus, with no concern for any potential higher power. It was a silent agreement. Genji did not speak up about his lack of faith, and Zenyatta did not force his perceptions onto his student. It was a tolerable arrangement for both. Sometimes, when the other monks were powered down for the night, they would find themselves discussing The Iris and whether or not it had any real power, and if it somehow did, if it could even be considered benevolent. They had never reached a consensus, they knew they never really could with something regarding faith, but neither thought less of the other for it. Zenyatta appreciated the chance for discussion. The other monks had a very rigid definition of what The Iris was, and to question that sparked arguments that lasted for days. They were too set in what they had to do, rather than why they were doing it in the first place.

“I do not know the factory from which I was birthed. And the little I do know of how I came about are conjecture. Markets boomed after the crisis, where you could purchase the convenience of an omnic servant without the fear of knowing they could think and yearn as you do. It was a matter of cutting four wires.”

Zenyatta slipped a finger in the gap between the base of his skull and his neck and presented them. They were frayed, hacked at with something blunt, and blue like veins under the skin. Genji felt his gut go cold at the sight. This was mutilation.

“That is… That is barbaric. How could such a thing be allowed?”

“It isn’t,” Zenyatta said, pressing them back into his skull, “some take ethics to be a suggestion.”

“You seem so composed. I don’t think I could ever be so calm. When did this happen?”

“Seventeen years ago. According to my model–”

He tapped the underside of his arm, to the faded numbers that marked the location where he was made, and the date.

“I am no older than twenty.”

Genji met his gaze again, thrashing himself mentally for assuming that Zenyatta had poured himself into monk garb on day one and enjoyed the wisdom and power that came with it, as if he himself hadn’t suffered. Zenyatta wasn’t looking for pity, he knew that. But then what was it he was looking for? A confidant?

… Had they truly become that close? While the subject matter was vile, the thought set him at ease.

“Twenty years… When that was happening to you,” Genji mused, self-effacing, “I was chasing girls and spending my father’s money. Living in a palace and being spoiled. I drank in our riches and ignored our means of acquiring them because it did not suit me to think about it.”

“And look what happened,” Zenyatta said, motioning to Genji’s cybernetics. “It ended with your bisection.”

“… True. But still–”

“There is no ‘but still’. This is not a competition. It isn’t healthy to reduce misery to numbers that can be played against one another.”  

Genji conceded the point, but still nursed his guilt. Zenyatta continued. He had his hand to his chin, looking out of the window, allowing his veneer as an all seeing master to crack.

“They were not cruel to me when I could not think. But to say this is is to be lauded says a great deal about the world we live in. There is much to change, and…”

He turned to face his student with the same determination he had shown. The look took Genji aback.

“Genji, may I ask your advice?”

“Of course, master.”

“Do you think I do enough here?”

Genji didn’t hesitate.

“You have changed my life.”

And neither did Zenyatta. This wasn’t a line of inquiry so much as it was a speech to himself.

“Thank you. But you are one man, and those that come here have already taken a significant step towards balance. The world is larger now than it has ever been, and many that might need help may not even know this place exists. It is not that I want my brothers to abandon their posts and roam the world, but…”

It was difficult to say as doing so cemented his plans firmly in his mind.

“I do not think we all need to be here.”

Genji was quiet, having learned himself that silence drew out good answers. Zenyatta was thinking aloud at this point.

“Mondatta, for all of our disagreements, is a good man. I think he will be fine here. Truthfully,” Zenyatta admitted, “I think removing myself may improve morale. Constant arguments are not good for the soul. May I make a request?”

“Of course.”

“The other monks are fond of you. Even though you don’t share our faith, you listen to our lessons and respect our ways. I want to let them know you’re leaving, so that they all might say goodbye.”

“That is a good idea. I will miss it here.”

“The day after you depart I will leave also.”

“I assume you don’t want me to mention that.”

“I would prefer it if you did not.”

“Where will you go?”

“West.”

“In what fashion?”

“If I am on foot; slowly. If not; quickly. With all the commotion involved in your heartfelt goodbye, and the mechanics involved in my… Fleeing–”

“Leaving.”

“Fleeing,” Zenyatta emphasized, “I don’t think we will be given many opportunities to speak. So if this happens to be the last time, I want to say…”

Genji felt his heart quicken. Perhaps this was it. It would make the day a tad more sweet than bitter.

“You,” Zenyatta said, clasping Genji’s hands in his. They were icy, not a jot of heat retained from the warmer temple, “are my brightest student, and my greatest friend. It is not common, once you leave you’re expected to forge your own path, but I want us to keep in contact, if you so wish.”

Zenyatta was painfully reticent regarding physical contact. Genji knew, even if Zenyatta didn’t, and pulled him in for a kiss. To Genji’s delight he spluttered.

“– I would have thought your time here would have tempered your boldness. You are making advances on a monk. Were you anyone else I would call you stupid.”

“'Advances’ might imply you were not on board! I am seducing a monk, master, semantics are important. Do you not feel the same way about me?”

Oh damn, there it was. Zenyatta could only hold his hands up and try to reassure himself, and his student, with ease and grace.

“What I feel,” he stated, “does not come into it. You have placed a great deal of trust in me, and I in you. To abuse that for my own pleasure would be shameful.”

“If you did not share my feelings,” Genji declared, arrogance flaring, “then you would have said that. You are dancing around the subject.”

“You can please yourself with word games all you want, but my answer must be ‘no’.”

“‘Must’ be, you’re doing it again!”

“I see you’re content to continue. If you’re intent on pursuing this line of thought then I will return to my room. I did not come here to be tempted.”

“‘Tempted!’”

Zenyatta noted that every misstep had been greater than the last. If the other monks were to find out about this conversation he would be banished with no room for return, rightfully so. Worst of all Genji was right. He shouldn’t have been, but he was. It was easy to mask as concern, but Zenyatta was not as good a liar as he had hoped. He was going to get a beating in the afterlife for this one.

“This cannot happen,” Zenyatta stressed, “it cannot.”

“When I leave,” Genji said, “and grow, return to you as a master myself, years from now… Might something happen? As equals?”

And for all his talk of letting go of the physical Zenyatta darkly noted that yes, it might.

“That would be a shallow ideal, and I cannot make you cruel promises,” he lied.

“You will be in exile anyway,” Genji pointed out, the gap between them closing. “What could they do? Double-exile you?”

“That– That is correct–”

“If you do not share my feelings and I have misread your signals then I will respect your wishes and never speak of this again. But master?”

“Yes, Genji?”

“You are the one that drew closer.”

They were inches away. Zenyatta was perched with his hands to the table in shameful, animalistic lust. What was he doing?

“It is… Apparent I did.”

Genji was unmoving, unspeaking, and found that Zenyatta’s protests were entirely for his own benefit as even as he babbled about the rules he still drew forward, until they were embracing.

“We– We cannot possibly–”

They were resting on one another, in mutual, balanced contact. Genji was at peace while another torrent of emotions pooled in Zenyatta, his training failing to quell them.

“I– As loathe as I am to admit it, I–,” Zenyatta said, fully unshackling himself from the rules of the temple, “– am considering your point.”

Genji laughed. High, loud and lively. He rubbed Zenyatta’s back in comfort.  
  
“Considering my point? You have truly come a long way!”  

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to keep The Iris ambiguous, and leave it up to interpretation. It could be that it's real, or perhaps not. But then I remember Zenyatta fires god beams out of every orifice upon pressing Q so that really takes the mystique out of it!


End file.
